


Underfoot

by LittleLinor



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: Boot Worship, D/s relationship, Foot Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 08:06:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16950201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: Daichi likes Yamato's boots, but he likes them even moreonhim.





	Underfoot

**Author's Note:**

> Some actual sexual content? From me???  
> ... it happens sometimes.  
> (reposted from tumblr)

Daichi  _swears_  he didn’t have a boot fetish before this. Promise.

Not that it matters anyway, because he’s a lost cause now. But he likes to remind himself, because he feels better about the idea that he developped this by  _sharing_ experiences with someone he cares about rather than thinking that he’d have lied back with a whine the first time Yamato suggested stepping on him.

He claims it’s because Yamato has great legs (and that much is true, and boots  _definitely_  draw your eyes to them, especially because he wears them so naturally, the same way his damn uniform fits his body perfectly), but he knows most of it is that when Yamato looks  _down_  on you and acts like he doesn’t have the slightest doubt about his superiority, well. He’s convincing. Very convincing.

He’s seen the real thing often enough. Has been on the recieving end often enough himself, before he won Yamato’s grudging respect… and then everything else.

It made his heart skip then, and it makes his heart skip now (in an even better way) and okay, by now when Yamato hints at it he  _does_  feel like just lying back.

But that would be too easy, and besides, he likes it the way it’s now, with him kneeling, hands tied back and pulled towards his ankles, and the tip of Yamato’s boot pushing his chin up. (The beautiful thing about Yamato is, he’ll manage to look straight and powerful and nonchalent all at the same time, it’s like the guy’s been drilled into posing from infancy so it comes naturally now. Even when he’s just playing at it it’s like a second skin on him, and sometimes he’ll feel a fraction of second of fear, the idea that maybe he’s not  _playing_  anymore, but well, there’s a reason Daichi fell for him in the first place)

He’s sitting, legs crossed, head resting on his fist, and Daichi can’t help but think that from this position there are  _other_  things Yamato could make him do, and he’s not completely against the idea (who is he even kidding here?).

“You’re not to look away, close your eyes or avert your face in any way. Can you remember that, Shijima?”

Yamato’s boot presses against his throat a little, and Daichi swallows just to feel it better.

“Yes sir.”

Yamato smiles, and his eyes caress Daichi’s face the way others would undess you with their eyes. Daichi half expects him to bring out a mirror someday, and it’ll be the day it all catches up with him and he finally dies from mortification.

(Also, it’ll probably be hot)

“Good,” Yamato says, and without further warning, he uncrosses his legs in a movement so fluid it  _has_  to be practiced and presses down on Daichi’s groin.

Daichi moans—yeah, all this anticipation’s made him much harder than he’d been when Yamato tied him up—and squirms, shoulders curling back, hips straining up towards Yamato’s foot, only to be held back by the ropes. He bites his lip and lets his eyelids fall as he gasps, only to fly back right open when Yamato presses down painfully hard, twisting his heel against him and making him cry out.

“Eyes, Shijima.”

“Y-yes. Sorry.”

The pressure lifts, enough for Daichi to catch his breath and blink moisture out of his eyes. Yamato’s face is stern above him, but there’s that kind of smile in his eyes that Daichi’s learnt to read, the one he has sometimes when he stares at him when he thinks Daichi can’t see him. It makes him blush faster than verbal abuse ever would, and when Yamato presses again he’s too caught up by that look to even try to hold back his moan.

“That’s better,” Yamato says, and he’s smiling now, smiling and nudging at Daichi’s dick though his clothes, using the tip of his boot to work him with more precision, and—he presses hard again, and Daichi’s pleasure- and pain-fogged mind knows his cry is pleading, almost sobbing, and he’s never going to last.

Another twist of Yamato’s toes, and he feels tears run down his cheeks. He gasps, tries to get a hold of his panting breath and control his quivering body, but when he blinks them out of his eyes, he meets Yamato’s again, their strength holding him in place better than any rope, and it’s that look that wraps around him as if it was Yamato’s hand on him instead of his foot and  _pulls_ , and he comes and comes apart, sagging forward against the strain of the ropes on his hands.

He’s looked away, and for a couple of seconds he thinks Yamato is going to remind him again, but instead of any violence, what he gets is the noise of Yamato’s chair rolling forward, and Yamato’s hand gently pulling his head up to the support of his lap.  _Oh_ , he thinks.  _Oh, that’s. Nice_. He rests his head against him, slowly letting his breath calm down, and when his brain finally catches up to reality enough to feel embarassment for the cooling wetness of his underwear, he notices two things at the same time: Yamato’s fingers running through his hair, and Yamato’s own breath, coming faster than it should, making his stomach raise, and—yeah, Daichi confirms when he finally opens his eyes again and looks up, yeah he’s hard too. Figures.

“You did well,” he says, the perfect picture of a guy who won’t mention he has a boner and dares anyone who notices to point it out.

Daichi laughs, shaking his head a bit.

“Thanks.”

The fingers are still rubbing his scalp, and this hint of patience and affection gives him the guts to actually go through with his suggestion.

“… Yamato?”

“Yes?”

“Want me to…” and okay, maybe he still needs to learn a bit more courage when it comes to these things, because instead of finishing his sentence he just blushes and nudges his head a little closer to Yamato’s groin.

There’s a pause, long enough for Daichi to listen to his own breath and the way it’s now coming as fast as Yamato’s (funny how that works), and then Yamato smiles, cupping the back of his head.

“Why not.”


End file.
